I work everyday for the feeling of oneness with the creatures of nature, how I might feel to be the fish. The tree or the wild horse. My garden is a lush place where I talk to plants and share poems in a poetry box with people walking their dogs. Website: triciaknoll.com
All I Am
I am all that trees know,
even new rot in the oak bole.
I am all that never was,
spangled across a maddening sky.
I am the point of a circle
in the snake’s tail and the moon.
I am the half flutter of a memorial ribbon
tied to bare ivy, words sunburned away.
I am the tea cup with the glued-on handle
no one trusts to carry hot water.
I am all that trees forget,
the passing of footsteps.
© 2017 Tricia Knoll
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